see them. You feel yourself my superior, I know: nay, you are mysuperior: have I not bowed my knee to you by instinct? Yet I challengeyou to a test of our respective powers. Can you calculate what themethematicians call vectors, without putting a single algebraic symbolon paper? Can you launch ten thousand men across a frontier and a chainof mountains and know to a mile exactly where they will be at the endof seven weeks? The rest is nothing: I got it all from the books at mymilitary school. Now this great game of war, this playing with armiesas other men play with bowls and skittles, is one which I must go onplaying, partly because a man must do what he can and not what he wouldlike to do, and partly because, if I stop, I immediately lose my powerand become a beggar in the land where I now make men drunk with glory.

THE ORACLE. No doubt then you wish to know how to extricate yourselffrom this unfortunate position?

NAPOLEON. It is not generally considered unfortunate, madam. Supremelyfortunate rather.

THE ORACLE. If you think so, go on making them drunk with glory. Whytrouble me with their folly and your vectors?

NAPOLEON. Unluckily, madam, men are not only heroes: they are alsocowards. They desire glory; but they dread death.

THE ORACLE. Why should they? Their lives are too short to be worthliving. That is why they think your game of war worth playing.

NAPOLEON. They do not look at it quite in that way. The most worthlesssoldier wants to live for ever. To make him risk being killed by theenemy I have to convince him that if he hesitates he will inevitably beshot at dawn by his own comrades for cowardice.

THE ORACLE. And if his comrades refuse to shoot him?

NAPOLEON. They will be shot too, of course.

THE ORACLE. By whom?

NAPOLEON. By their comrades.

THE ORACLE. And if they refuse?

NAPOLEON. Up to a certain point they do not refuse.

THE ORACLE. But when that point is reached, you have to do the shootingyourself, eh?

NAPOLEON. Unfortunately, madam, when that point is reached, they shootme.

THE ORACLE. Mf! It seems to me they might as well shoot you first aslast. Why don't they?

NAPOLEON. Because their love of fighting, their desire for glory, theirshame of being branded as dastards, their instinct to test themselves interrible trials, their fear of being killed or enslaved by the enemy,their belief that they are defending their hearths and homes, overcometheir natural cowardice, and make them willing not only to risk theirown lives but to kill everyone who refuses to take that risk. But if warcontinues too long, there comes a time when the soldiers, and also thetaxpayers who are supporting and munitioning them, reach a conditionwhich they describe as being fed up. The troops have proved theircourage, and want to go home and enjoy in peace the glory it has earnedthem. Besides, the risk of death for each soldier becomes a certainty ifthe fighting goes on for ever: he hopes to escape for six months, butknows he cannot escape for six years. The risk of bankruptcy for thecitizen becomes a certainty in the same way. Now what does this mean forme?

THE ORACLE. Does that matter in the midst of such calamity?

NAPOLEON. Psha! madam: it is the only thing that matters: the valueof human life is the value of the greatest living man. Cut off thatinfinitesimal layer of grey matter which distinguishes my brain fromthat of the common man, and you cut down the stature of humanity fromthat of a giant to that of a nobody. I matter supremely: my soldiers donot matter at all: there are plenty more where they came from. If youkill me, or put a stop to my activity (it is the same thing), thenobler part of human life perishes. You must save the world fromthat catastrophe, madam. War has made me popular, powerful, famous,historically immortal. But I foresee that if I go on to the end it willleave me execrated, dethroned, imprisoned, perhaps executed. Yet if Istop fighting I commit suicide as a great man and become a common one.How am I to escape the horns of this tragic dilemma? Victory Ican guarantee: I am invincible. But the cost of victory is thedemoralization, the depopulation, the ruin of the victors no less thanof the vanquished. How am I to satisfy my genius by fighting until Idie? that is my question to you.

THE ORACLE. Were you not rash to venture into these sacred islands withsuch a question on your lips? Warriors are not popular here, my friend.

NAPOLEON. If a soldier were restrained by such a consideration, madam,he would no longer be a soldier. Besides [_he produces a pistol_], Ihave not come unarmed.

THE ORACLE. What is that thing?

NAPOLEON. It is an instrument of my profession, madam. I raise thishammer; I point the barrel at you; I pull this trigger that is againstmy forefinger; and you fall dead.

THE ORACLE. Shew it to me [_she puts out her hand to take it from him_].

NAPOLEON [_retreating a step_] Pardon me, madam. I never trust my lifein the hands of a person over whom I have no control.

THE ORACLE [_sternly_] Give it to me [_she raises her hand to herveil_].

NAPOLEON [_taking his hands from his eyes with an effort_] A poorvictory, madam [_he picks up the pistol and hands it to her_]: there wasno vector strategy needed to win it. [Making a pose of his humiliation]But enjoy your triumph: you have made me--ME! Cain Adamson CharlesNapoleon! Emperor of Turania! cry for quarter.

THE ORACLE. The way out of your difficulty, Cain Adamson, is verysimple.

NAPOLEON [_eagerly_] Good. What is it?

THE ORACLE. To die before the tide of glory turns. Allow me [_she shootshim_].

_He falls with a shriek. She throws the pistol away and goes haughtilyinto the temple._

NAPOLEON [_scrambling to his feet_] Murderess! Monster! She-devil!Unnatural, inhuman wretch! You deserve to be hanged, guillotined, brokenon the wheel, burnt alive. No sense of the sacredness of human life! Nothought for my wife and children! Bitch! Sow! Wanton! [_He picks up thepistol_]. And missed me at five yards! Thats a woman all over.

_He is going away whence he came when Zoo arrives and confronts himat the head of a party consisting of the British Envoy, the ElderlyGentleman, the Envoy's wife, and her daughter, aged about eighteen. Theenvoy, a typical politician, looks like an imperfectly reformed criminaldisguised by a good tailor. The dress of the ladies is coeval with thatof the Elderly Gentleman, and suitable for public official ceremonies inwestern capitals at the XVIII-XIX fin de siecle._

_They file in under the portico. Zoo immediately comes out imperiouslyto Napoleon's right, whilst the Envoy's wife hurries effusively to hisleft. The Envoy meanwhile passes along behind the columns to the door,followed by his daughter. The Elderly Gentleman stops just where heentered, to see why Zoo has swooped so abruptly on the Emperor ofTurania._

ZOO [_to Napoleon, severely_] What are you doing here by yourself? Youhave no business to go about here alone. What was that noise just now?What is that in your hand?

_Napoleon glares at her in speechless fury; pockets the pistol; andproduces a whistle._

THE ENVOY'S WIFE. Arnt you coming with us to the oracle, sire?

NAPOLEON. To hell with the oracle, and with you too [_he turns to go_]!

NAPOLEON. To fetch the police. [_He goes out past Zoo, almost jostlingher, and blowing piercing blasts on his whistle_].

ZOO [_whipping out her tuning-fork and intoning_] Hallo Galway Central.[_The whistling continues_]. Stand by to isolate. [_To the ElderlyGentleman, who is staring after the whistling Emperor_] How far has hegone?

THE ENVOY'S WIFE. Oh! he will be frightfully angry! Did you hear what hesaid to me?

ZOO. Much we care for his anger!

THE DAUGHTER [_coming forward between her mother and Zoo_]. Please,madam, whose statue is it? and where can I buy a picture postcard of it?It is so funny. I will take a snapshot when we are coming back; but theycome out so badly sometimes.

ZOO. They will give you pictures and toys in the temple to take awaywith you. The story of the statue is too long. It would bore you [_shegoes past them across the courtyard to get rid of them_].

THE WIFE [_gushing_] Oh no, I assure you.

THE DAUGHTER [_copying her mother_] We should be so interested.

ZOO. Nonsense! All I can tell you about it is that a thousand years ago,when the whole world was given over to you shortlived people, there wasa war called the War to end War. In the war which followed it about tenyears later, hardly any soldiers were killed; but seven of the capitalcities of Europe were wiped out of existence. It seems to have been agreat joke: for the statesmen who thought they had sent ten millioncommon men to their deaths were themselves blown into fragments withtheir houses and families, while the ten million men lay snugly in thecaves they had dug for themselves. Later on even the houses escaped; buttheir inhabitants were poisoned by gas that spared no living soul.Of course the soldiers starved and ran wild; and that was the end ofpseudo-Christian civilization. The last civilized thing that happenedwas that the statesmen discovered that cowardice was a great patrioticvirtue; and a public monument was erected to its first preacher, anancient and very fat sage called Sir John Falstaff. Well [_pointing_],thats Falstaff.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_coming from the portico to his granddaughter'sright_] Great Heavens! And at the base of this monstrous poltroon'sstatue the War God of Turania is now gibbering impotently.

ZOO. Serve him right! War God indeed!

THE ENVOY [_coming between his wife and Zoo_] I don't know any history:a modern Prime Minister has something better to do than sit readingbooks; but--

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_interrupting him encouragingly_] You makehistory, Ambrose.

THE ENVOY. Well, perhaps I do; and perhaps history makes me. I hardlyrecognize myself in the newspapers sometimes, though I suppose leadingarticles are the materials of history, as you might say. But what I wantto know is, how did war come back again? and how did they make thosepoisonous gases you speak of? We should be glad to know; for they mightcome in very handy if we have to fight Turania. Of course I am all forpeace, and don't hold with the race of armaments in principle; still, wemust keep ahead or be wiped out.

ZOO. You can make the gases for yourselves when your chemists find outhow. Then you will do as you did before: poison each other until thereare no chemists left, and no civilization. You will then begin all overagain as half-starved ignorant savages, and fight with boomerangsand poisoned arrows until you work up to the poison gases and highexplosives once more, with the same result. That is, unless we havesense enough to make an end of this ridiculous game by destroying you.

THE ENVOY [_aghast_] Destroying us!

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I told you, Ambrose. I warned you.

THE ENVOY. But--

ZOO [_impatiently_] I wonder what Zozim is doing. He ought to be here toreceive you.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Do you mean that rather insufferable young manwhom you found boring me on the pier?

ZOO. Yes. He has to dress-up in a Druid's robe, and put on a wig and along false beard, to impress you silly people. I have to put on a purplemantle. I have no patience with such mummery; but you expect it from us;so I suppose it must be kept up. Will you wait here until Zozim comes,please [_she turns to enter the temple_].

THE ENVOY. My good lady, is it worth while dressing-up and putting onfalse beards for us if you tell us beforehand that it is all humbug?

ZOO. One would not think so; but if you wont believe in anyone who isnot dressed-up, why, we must dress-up for you. It was you who inventedall this nonsense, not we.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. But do you expect us to be impressed after this?

ZOO. I don't expect anything. I know, as a matter of experience, thatyou will be impressed. The oracle will frighten you out of your wits.[_She goes into the temple_].

THE WIFE. These people treat us as if we were dirt beneath their feet. Iwonder at you putting up with it, Amby. It would serve them right if wewent home at once: wouldnt it, Eth?

THE DAUGHTER. Yes, mamma. But perhaps they wouldnt mind.

THE ENVOY. No use talking like that, Molly. Ive got to see this oracle.The folks at home wont know how we have been treated: all theyll knowis that Ive stood face to face with the oracle and had the straight tipfrom her. I hope this Zozim chap is not going to keep us waiting muchlonger; for I feel far from comfortable about the approaching interview;and thats the honest truth.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I never thought I should want to see that managain; but now I wish he would take charge of us instead of Zoo. She wascharming at first: quite charming; but she turned into a fiend because Ihad a few words with her. You would not believe: she very nearly killedme. You heard what she said just now. She belongs to a party here whichwants to have us all killed.

THE WIFE [_terrified_] Us! But we have done nothing: we have been asnice to them as nice could be. Oh, Amby, come away, come away: there issomething dreadful about this place and these people.

THE ENVOY. There is, and no mistake. But youre safe with me: you oughtto have sense enough to know that.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I am sorry to say, Molly, that it is not merelyus four poor weak creatures they want to kill, but the entire race ofMan, except themselves.

THE ENVOY. Not so poor neither, Poppa. Nor so weak, if you are going totake in all the Powers. If it comes to killing, two can play at thatgame, longlived or shortlived.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No, Ambrose: we should have no chance. We areworms beside these fearful people: mere worms.

_Zozim comes from the temple, robed majestically, and wearing a wreathof mistletoe in his flowing white wig. His false beard reaches almost tohis waist. He carries a staff with a curiously carved top._

ZOZIM [_in the doorway, impressively_] Hail, strangers!

ALL [_reverently_] Hail!

ZOZIM. Are ye prepared?

THE ENVOY. We are.

ZOZIM [_unexpectedly becoming conversational, and strolling downcarelessly to the middle of the group between the two ladies_] Well, I'msorry to say the oracle is not. She was delayed by some member of yourparty who got loose; and as the show takes a bit of arranging, you willhave to wait a few minutes. The ladies can go inside and look round theentrance hall and get pictures and things if they want them.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_in dignified rebuke of Zozim's levity_] Taken inthis spirit, sir, the show, as you call it, becomes almost an insult toour common sense.

ZOZIM. Quite, I should say. You need not keep it up with me.

THE ENVOY [_suddenly making himself very agreeable_] Just so: just so.We can wait as long as you please. And now, if I may be allowed to seizethe opportunity of a few minutes' friendly chat--?

ZOZIM. By all means, if only you will talk about things I canunderstand.

THE ENVOY. Well, about this colonizing plan of yours. My father-in-lawhere has been telling me something about it; and he has just now let outthat you want not only to colonize us, but to--to--to--well, shall wesay to supersede us? Now why supersede us? Why not live and let live?Theres not a scrap of ill-feeling on our side. We should welcome acolony of immortals--we may almost call you that--in the British MiddleEast. No doubt the Turanian Empire, with its Mahometan traditions,overshadows us now. We have had to bring the Emperor with us on thisexpedition, though of course you know as well as I do that he hasimposed himself on my party just to spy on me. I dont deny that he hasthe whip hand of us to some extent, because if it came to a war none ofour generals could stand up against him. I give him best at that game:he is the finest soldier in the world. Besides, he is an emperor andan autocrat; and I am only an elected representative of the Britishdemocracy. Not that our British democrats wont fight: they will fightthe heads off all the Turanians that ever walked; but then it takes solong to work them up to it, while he has only to say the word and march.But you people would never get on with him. Believe me, you would not beas comfortable in Turania as you would be with us. We understand you. Welike you. We are easy-going people; and we are rich people. That willappeal to you. Turania is a poor place when all is said. Five-eighths ofit is desert. They dont irrigate as we do. Besides--now I am sure thiswill appeal to you and to all right-minded men--we are Christians.

ZOZIM. The old uns prefer Mahometans.

THE ENVOY [_shocked_] What!

ZOZIM [_distinctly_] They prefer Mahometans. Whats wrong with that?

THE ENVOY. Well, of all the disgraceful--

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_diplomatically interrupting his scandalizedson-in-law_] There can be no doubt, I am afraid, that by clinging toolong to the obsolete features of the old pseudo-Christian Churches weallowed the Mahometans to get ahead of us at a very critical period ofthe development of the Eastern world. When the Mahometan Reformationtook place, it left its followers with the enormous advantage of havingthe only established religion in the world in whose articles of faithany intelligent and educated person could believe.

THE ENVOY. But what about our Reformation? Dont give the show away,Poppa. We followed suit, didnt we?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Unfortunately, Ambrose, we could not follow suitvery rapidly. We had not only a religion to deal with, but a Church.

ZOZIM. What is a Church?

THE ENVOY. Not know what a Church is! Well!

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. You must excuse me; but if I attempted to explainyou would only ask me what a bishop is; and that is a question that nomortal man can answer. All I can tell you is that Mahomet was a trulywise man; for he founded a religion without a Church; consequently whenthe time came for a Reformation of the mosques there were no bishops andpriests to obstruct it. Our bishops and priests prevented us for twohundred years from following suit; and we have never recovered the startwe lost then. I can only plead that we did reform our Church at last. Nodoubt we had to make a few compromises as a matter of good taste;but there is now very little in our Articles of Religion that is notaccepted as at least allegorically true by our Higher Criticism.

THE ENVOY [_encouragingly_] Besides, does it matter? Why, _I_ have neverread the Articles in my life; and I am Prime Minister! Come! if myservices in arranging for the reception of a colonizing party would beacceptable, they are at your disposal. And when I say a reception I meana reception. Royal honors, mind you! A salute of a hundred and one guns!The streets lined with troops! The Guards turned out at the Palace!Dinner at the Guildhall!

ZOZIM. Discourage me if I know what youre talking about! I wish Zoowould come: she understands these things. All I can tell you is thatthe general opinion among the Colonizers is in favor of beginning in acountry where the people are of a different color from us; so that wecan make short work without any risk of mistakes.

THE ENVOY. What do you mean by short work? I hope--

ZOZIM [_with obviously feigned geniality_] Oh, nothing, nothing,nothing. We are thinking of trying North America: thats all. You see,the Red Men of that country used to be white. They passed through aperiod of sallow complexions, followed by a period of no complexionsat all, into the red characteristic of their climate. Besides, severalcases of long life have occurred in North America. They joined us here;and their stock soon reverted to the original white of these islands.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. But have you considered the possibility of yourcolony turning red?

ZOZIM. That wont matter. We are not particular about our pigmentation.The old books mention red-faced Englishmen: they appear to have beencommon objects at one time.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_very persuasively_] But do you think you wouldbe popular in North America? It seems to me, if I may say so, that onyour own shewing you need a country in which society is organized in aseries of highly exclusive circles, in which the privacy of private lifeis very jealously guarded, and in which no one presumes to speak toanyone else without an introduction following a strict examination ofsocial credentials. It is only in such a country that persons of specialtastes and attainments can form a little world of their own, and protectthemselves absolutely from intrusion by common persons. I think I mayclaim that our British society has developed this exclusiveness toperfection. If you would pay us a visit and see the working of our castesystem, our club system, our guild system, you would admit that nowhereelse in the world, least of all, perhaps in North America, which has aregrettable tradition of social promiscuity, could you keep yourselvesso entirely to yourselves.

ZOZIM [_good-naturedly embarrassed_] Look here. There is no gooddiscussing this. I had rather not explain; but it wont make anydifference to our Colonizers what sort of short-livers they come across.We shall arrange all that. Never mind how. Let us join the ladies.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_throwing off his diplomatic attitude andabandoning himself to despair_] We understand you only too well, sir.Well, kill us. End the lives you have made miserably unhappy by openingup to us the possibility that any of us may live three hundred years. Isolemnly curse that possibility. To you it may be a blessing, becauseyou do live three hundred years. To us, who live less than a hundred,whose flesh is as grass, it is the most unbearable burden our poortortured humanity has ever groaned under.

THE ENVOY. Hullo, Poppa! Steady! How do you make that out?

ZOZIM. What is three hundred years? Short enough, if you ask me. Why, inthe old days you people lived on the assumption that you were going tolast out for ever and ever and ever. Immortal, you thought yourselves.Were you any happier then?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. As President of the Baghdad Historical SocietyI am in a position to inform you that the communities which took thismonstrous pretension seriously were the most wretched of which we haveany record. My Society has printed an editio princeps of the works ofthe father of history, Thucyderodotus Macolly-buckle. Have you read hisaccount of what was blasphemously called the Perfect City of God, andthe attempt made to reproduce it in the northern part of these islandsby Jonhobsnoxius, called the Leviathan? Those misguided peoplesacrificed the fragment of life that was granted to them to an imaginaryimmortality. They crucified the prophet who told them to take no thoughtfor the morrow, and that here and now was their Australia: Australiabeing a term signifying paradise, or an eternity of bliss. They triedto produce a condition of death in life: to mortify the flesh, as theycalled it.

ZOZIM. Well, you are not suffering from that, are you? You have not amortified air.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Naturally we are not absolutely insane andsuicidal. Nevertheless we impose on ourselves abstinences anddisciplines and studies that are meant to prepare us for living threecenturies. And we seldom live one. My childhood was made unnecessarilypainful, my boyhood unnecessarily laborious, by ridiculous preparationsfor a length of days which the chances were fifty thousand to oneagainst my ever attaining. I have been cheated out of the natural joysand freedoms of my life by this dream to which the existence of theseislands and their oracles gives a delusive possibility of realization.I curse the day when long life was invented, just as the victims ofJonhobsnoxius cursed the day when eternal life was invented.

ZOZIM. Pooh! You could live three centuries if you chose.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. That is what the fortunate always say to theunfortunate. Well, I do not choose. I accept my three score and tenyears. If they are filled with usefulness, with justice, with mercy,with good-will: if they are the lifetime of a soul that never loses itshonor and a brain that never loses its eagerness, they are enough forme, because these things are infinite and eternal, and can make ten ofmy years as long as thirty of yours. I shall not conclude by saying liveas long as you like and be damned to you, because I have risen for themoment far above any ill-will to you or to any fellow-creature; but Iam your equal before that eternity in which the difference between yourlifetime and mine is as the difference between one drop of waterand three in the eyes of the Almighty Power from which we have bothproceeded.

ZOZIM [_impressed_] You spoke that piece very well, Daddy. I couldnttalk like that if I tried. It sounded fine. Ah! here comes the ladies.

_To his relief, they have just appeared on the threshold of the temple._

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_passing from exaltation to distress_] It meansnothing to him: in this land of discouragement the sublime has becomethe ridiculous. [_Turning on the hopelessly puzzled Zozim_] 'Behold,thou hast made my days as it were a span long; and mine age is even asnothing in respect of thee.'

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_throwing off the women with a superb gesture_]Liar! [_Recollecting himself, he adds, with noble courtesy, raising hishat and bowing_] I beg your pardon, sir; but I am NOT discouraged.

_A burst of orchestral music, through which a powerful gong sounds, isheard from the temple. Zoo, in a purple robe, appears in the doorway._

ZOO. Come. The oracle is ready.

_Zozim motions them to the threshold with a wave of his staff. The Envoyand the Elderly Gentleman take off their hats and go into the temple ontiptoe, Zoo leading the way. The Wife and Daughter, frightened as theyare, raise their heads uppishly and follow flatfooted, sustained by asense of their Sunday clothes and social consequence. Zozim remains inthe portico, alone._

ZOZIM [_taking off his wig, beard, and robe, and bundling them under hisarm_] Ouf! [He goes home].

ACT III

_Inside the temple. A gallery overhanging an abyss. Dead silence. Thegallery is brightly lighted; but beyond is a vast gloom, continuallychanging in intensity. A shaft of violet light shoots upward; and a veryharmonious and silvery carillon chimes. When it ceases the violet rayvanishes._

_Zoo comes along the gallery, followed by the Envoy's daughter, hiswife, the Envoy himself, and the Elderly Gentleman. The two men areholding their hats with the brims near their noses, as if prepared topray into them at a moment's notice. Zoo halts: they all follow herexample. They contemplate the void with awe. Organ music of the kindcalled sacred in the nineteenth century begins. Their awe deepens. Theviolet ray, now a diffused mist, rises again from the abyss._

THE WIFE [_to Zoo, in a reverent whisper_] Shall we kneel?

ZOO [_loudly_] Yes, if you want to. You can stand on your head if youlike. [_She sits down carelessly on the gallery railing, with her backto the abyss_].

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_jarred by her callousness_] We desire to behavein a becoming manner.

ZOO. Very well. Behave just as you feel. It doesn't matter how youbehave. But keep your wits about you when the pythoness ascends, or youwill forget the questions you have come to ask her.

THE ENVOY} {[[_very nervous, takes out a paper to_] } [[_simul-_] {[_refresh his memory_]] Ahem! THE DAUGHTER} [_taneously_]]{[[_alarmed_]] The pythoness? Is she } {a snake?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Tch-ch! The priestess of the oracle. A sybil. Aprophetess. Not a snake.

THE WIFE. How awful!

ZOO. I'm glad you think so.

THE WIFE. Oh dear! Dont you think so?

ZOO. No. This sort of thing is got up to impress you, not to impress me.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I wish you would let it impress us, then, madam.I am deeply impressed; but you are spoiling the effect.

ZOO. You just wait. All this business with colored lights and chords onthat old organ is only tomfoolery. Wait til you see the pythoness.

_The Envoy's wife falls on her knees, and takes refuge in prayer._

THE DAUGHTER [_trembling_] Are we really going to see a woman who haslived three hundred years?

ZOO. Stuff! Youd drop dead if a tertiary as much as looked at you. Theoracle is only a hundred and seventy; and you'll find it hard enough tostand her.

THE DAUGHTER [_piteously_] Oh! [_she falls on her knees_].

THE ENVOY. Whew! Stand by me, Poppa. This is a little more than Ibargained for. Are you going to kneel; or how?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Perhaps it would be in better taste.

_The two men kneel._

_The vapor of the abyss thickens; and a distant roll of thunder seems tocome from its depths. The pythoness, seated on her tripod, rises slowlyfrom it. She has discarded the insulating robe and veil in which sheconversed with Napoleon, and is now draped and hooded in voluminousfolds of a single piece of grey-white stuff. Something supernaturalabout her terrifies the beholders, who throw themselves on their faces.Her outline flows and waves: she is almost distinct at moments, andagain vague and shadowy: above all, she is larger than life-size, notenough to be measured by the flustered congregation, but enough toaffect them with a dreadful sense of her supernaturalness._

ZOO. Get up, get up. Do pull yourselves together, you people.

_The Envoy and his family, by shuddering negatively, intimate that itis impossible. The Elderly Gentleman manages to get on his hands andknees._

ZOO. Come on, Daddy: you are not afraid. Speak to her. She wont waithere all day for you, you know.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_rising very deferentially to his feet_] Madam:you will excuse my very natural nervousness in addressing, for the firsttime in my life, a--a--a--a goddess. My friend and relative the Envoy isunhinged. I throw myself upon your indulgence--

ZOO [_interrupting him intolerantly_] Dont throw yourself on anythingbelonging to her or you will go right through her and break your neck.She isnt solid, like you.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I was speaking figuratively--

ZOO. You have been told not to do it. Ask her what you want to know; andbe quick about it.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_stooping and taking the prostrate Envoy by theshoulders_] Ambrose: you must make an effort. You cannot go back toBaghdad without the answers to your questions.

THE ENVOY [_rising to his knees_] I shall be only too glad to get backalive on any terms. If my legs would support me I'd just do a bunkstraight for the ship.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No, no. Remember: your dignity--

THE ENVOY. Dignity be damned! I'm terrified. Take me away, for God'ssake.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_producing a brandy flask and taking the capoff_] Try some of this. It is still nearly full, thank goodness!

THE ENVOY [_clutching it and drinking eagerly_] Ah! Thats better. [_Hetries to drink again. Finding that he has emptied it, he hands it backto his father-in-law upside down_].

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_taking it_] Great heavens! He has swallowedhalf-a-pint of neat brandy. [_Much perturbed, he screws the cap onagain, and pockets the flask_].

THE ENVOY [_staggering to his feet; pulling a paper from his pocket; andspeaking with boisterous confidence_] Get up, Molly. Up with you, Eth.

_The two women rise to their knees._

THE ENVOY. What I want to ask is this. [_He refers to the paper_]. Ahem!Civilization has reached a crisis. We are at the parting of the ways. Westand on the brink of the Rubicon. Shall we take the plunge? Already aleaf has been torn out of the book of the Sybil. Shall we wait until thewhole volume is consumed? On our right is the crater of the volcano: onour left the precipice. One false step, and we go down to annihilationdragging the whole human race with us. [_He pauses for breath_].

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_recovering his spirits under the familiarstimulus of political oratory_] Hear, hear!

ZOO. What are you raving about? Ask your question while you have thechance. What is it you want to know?

THE ENVOY [_patronizing her in the manner of a Premier debating with avery young member of the Opposition_] A young woman asks me a question.I am always glad to see the young taking an interest in politics. It isan impatient question; but it is a practical question, an intelligentquestion. She asks why we seek to lift a corner of the veil that shroudsthe future from our feeble vision.

ZOO. I don't. I ask you to tell the oracle what you want, and not keepher sitting there all day.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_warmly_] Order, order!

ZOO. What does 'Order, order!' mean?

THE ENVOY. I ask the august oracle to listen to my voice--

ZOO. You people seem never to tire of listening to your voices; but itdoesn't amuse us. What do you want?

THE ENVOY. I want, young woman, to be allowed to proceed withoutunseemly interruptions.

_A low roll of thunder comes from the abyss._

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. There! Even the oracle is indignant. [_To theEnvoy_] Do not allow yourself to be put down by this lady's rude clamor,Ambrose. Take no notice. Proceed.

THE ENVOY'S WIFE. I cant bear this much longer, Amby. Remember: I havn'thad any brandy.

HIS DAUGHTER [_trembling_] There are serpents curling in the vapor. I amafraid of the lightning. Finish it, Papa; or I shall die.

THE ENVOY [_sternly_] Silence. The destiny of British civilization is atstake. Trust me. I am not afraid. As I was saying--where was I?

ZOO. I don't know. Does anybody?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_tactfully_] You were just coming to theelection, I think.

THE ENVOY [_reassured_] Just so. The election. Now what we want toknow is this: ought we to dissolve in August, or put it off until nextspring?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Before the oracle replies, I should like to beallowed to state a few of the reasons why, in my opinion, the Governmentshould hold on until the spring. In the first--

_Terrific lightning and thunder. The Elderly Gentleman is knocked flat;but as he immediately sits up again dazedly it is clear that he is nonethe worse for the shock. The ladies cower in terror. The Envoy's hat isblown off; but he seizes it just as it quits his temples, and holds iton with both hands. He is recklessly drunk, but quite articulate, as heseldom speaks in public without taking stimulants beforehand._

THE ENVOY [_taking one hand from his hat to make a gesture of stillingthe tempest_] Thats enough. We know how to take a hint. I'll put thecase in three words. I am the leader of the Potterbill party. My partyis in power. I am Prime Minister. The Opposition--the Rotterjacks--havewon every bye-election for the last six months. They--

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_scrambling heatedly to his feet_] Not by fairmeans. By bribery, by misrepresentation, by pandering to the vilestprejudices [_muttered thunder_]--I beg your pardon [_he is silent_].

THE ENVOY. Never mind the bribery and lies. The oracle knows all aboutthat. The point is that though our five years will not expire until theyear after next, our majority will be eaten away at the bye-electionsby about Easter. We can't wait: we must start some question that willexcite the public, and go to the country on it. But some of us say do itnow. Others say wait til the spring. We cant make up our minds one wayor the other. Which would you advise?

ZOO. But what is the question that is to excite your public?

THE ENVOY. That doesnt matter. I dont know yet. We will find a questionall right enough. The oracle can foresee the future: we cannot.[_Thunder_]. What does that mean? What have I done now?

ZOO. [_severely_] How often must you be told that we cannot foresee thefuture? There is no such thing as the future until it is the present.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Allow me to point out, madam, that when thePotterbill party sent to consult the oracle fifteen years ago, theoracle prophesied that the Potterbills would be victorious at theGeneral Election; and they were. So it is evident that the oracle canforesee the future, and is sometimes willing to reveal it.

THE ENVOY. Quite true. Thank you, Poppa. I appeal now, over your head,young woman, direct to the August Oracle, to repeat the signal favorconferred on my illustrious predecessor, Sir Fuller Eastwind, and toanswer me exactly as he was answered.

_The oracle raises her hands to command silence._

ALL. Sh-sh-sh!

_Invisible trombones utter three solemn blasts in the manner of DieZauberfloete._

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. May I--

ZOO [_quickly_] Hush. The oracle is going to speak.

THE ORACLE. Go home, poor fool.

_She vanishes; and the atmosphere changes to prosaic daylight. Zoo comesoff the railing; throws off her robe; makes a bundle of it; and tucks itunder her arm. The magic and mystery are gone. The women rise to theirfeet. The Envoy's party stare at one another helplessly._

ZOO. The same reply, word for word, that your illustrious predecessor,as you call him, got fifteen years ago. You asked for it; and you gotit. And just think of all the important questions you might have asked.She would have answered them, you know. It is always like that. Iwill go and arrange to have you sent home: you can wait for me in theentrance hall [_she goes out_].

THE ENVOY. What possessed me to ask for the same answer old Eastwindgot?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. But it was not the same answer. The answer toEastwind was an inspiration to our party for years. It won us theelection.

THE ENVOY'S DAUGHTER. I learnt it at school, granpa. It wasn't the sameat all. I can repeat it. [_She quotes_] 'When Britain was cradled in thewest, the east wind hardened her and made her great. Whilst the eastwind prevails Britain shall prosper. The east wind shall witherBritain's enemies in the day of contest. Let the Rotterjacks look toit.'

THE ENVOY. The old man invented that. I see it all. He was a dodderingold ass when he came to consult the oracle. The oracle naturally said'Go home, poor fool.' There was no sense in saying that to me; but asthat girl said, I asked for it. What else could the poor old chap do butfake up an answer fit for publication? There were whispers about it; butnobody believed them. I believe them now.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Oh, I cannot admit that Sir Fuller Eastwind wascapable of such a fraud.

THE ENVOY. He was capable of anything: I knew his private secretary.And now what are we going to say? You don't suppose I am going back toBaghdad to tell the British Empire that the oracle called me a fool, doyou?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Surely we must tell the truth, however painful itmay be to our feelings.

THE ENVOY. I am not thinking of my feelings: I am not so selfish asthat, thank God. I am thinking of the country: of our party. The truth,as you call it, would put the Rotterjacks in for the next twenty years.It would be the end of me politically. Not that I care for that: I amonly too willing to retire if you can find a better man. Dont hesitateon my account.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No, Ambrose: you are indispensable. There is noone else.

THE ENVOY. Very well, then. What are you going to do?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. My dear Ambrose, you are the leader of the party,not I. What are you going to do?

THE ENVOY. I am going to tell the exact truth; thats what I'm going todo. Do you take me for a liar?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_puzzled_] Oh. I beg your pardon. I understoodyou to say--

THE ENVOY [_cutting him short_] You understood me to say that I am goingback to Baghdad to tell the British electorate that the oracle repeatedto me, word for word, what it said to Sir Fuller Eastwind fifteen yearsago. Molly and Ethel can bear me out. So must you, if you are an honestman. Come on.

_He goes out, followed by his wife and daughter._

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_left alone and shrinking into an old anddesolate figure_] What am I to do? I am a most perplexed and wretchedman. [_He falls on his knees, and stretches his hands in entreaty overthe abyss_]. I invoke the oracle. I cannot go back and connive at ablasphemous lie. I implore guidance.

_The Pythoness walks in on the gallery behind him, and touches him onthe shoulder. Her size is now natural. Her face is hidden by her hood.He flinches as if from an electric shock; turns to her; and cowers,covering his eyes in terror._

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No: not close to me. I'm afraid I can't bear it.

THE ORACLE [_with grave pity_] Come: look at me. I am my natural sizenow: what you saw there was only a foolish picture of me thrown on acloud by a lantern. How can I help you?

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. They have gone back to lie about your answer. Icannot go with them. I cannot live among people to whom nothing is real.I have become incapable of it through my stay here. I implore to beallowed to stay.

THE ORACLE. My friend: if you stay with us you will die ofdiscouragement.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. If I go back I shall die of disgust and despair.I take the nobler risk. I beg you, do not cast me out.

_He catches her robe and holds her._

THE ORACLE. Take care. I have been here one hundred and seventy years.Your death does not mean to me what it means to you.

THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. It is the meaning of life, not of death, thatmakes banishment so terrible to me.

THE ORACLE. Be it so, then. You may stay.

_She offers him her hands. He grasps them and raises himself a little byclinging to her. She looks steadily into his face. He stiffens; a littleconvulsion shakes him; his grasp relaxes; and he falls dead._

THE ORACLE [_looking down at the body_] Poor shortlived thing! What elsecould I do for you?

PART V.

As Far as Thought can Reach

_Summer afternoon in the year 31,920 A.D. A sunlit glade at the southernfoot of a thickly wooded hill. On the west side of it, the steps andcolumned porch of a dainty little classic temple. Between it and thehill, a rising path to the wooded heights begins with rough steps ofstones in the moss. On the opposite side, a grove. In the middle of theglade, an altar in the form of a low marble table as long as a man, setparallel to the temple steps and pointing to the hill. Curved marblebenches radiate from it into the foreground; but they are not joined toit: there is plenty of space to pass between the altar and the benches.

A dance of youths and maidens is in progress. The music is provided by afew fluteplayers seated carelessly on the steps of the temple. There areno children; and none of the dancers seems younger than eighteen. Someof the youths have beards. Their dress, like the architecture of thetheatre and the design of the altar and curved seats, resembles Grecianof the fourth century B.C., freely handled. They move with perfectbalance and remarkable grace, racing through a figure like a farandole.They neither romp nor hug in our manner.

At the first full close they clap their hands to stop the musicians, whorecommence with a saraband, during which a strange figure appears on thepath beyond the temple. He is deep in thought, with his eyes closedand his feet feeling automatically for the rough irregular steps as heslowly descends them. Except for a sort of linen kilt consisting mainlyof a girdle carrying a sporran and a few minor pockets, he is naked. Inphysical hardihood and uprightness he seems to be in the prime of life;and his eyes and mouth shew no signs of age; but his face, though fullyand firmly fleshed, bears a network of lines, varying from furrows tohairbreadth reticulations, as if Time had worked over every inch of itincessantly through whole geologic periods. His head is finely domedand utterly bald. Except for his eyelashes he is quite hairless. He isunconscious of his surroundings, and walks right into one of the dancingcouples, separating them. He wakes up and stares about him. The couplestop indignantly. The rest stop. The music stops. The youth whom he hasjostled accosts him without malice, but without anything that we shouldcall manners._

THE YOUTH. Now, then, ancient sleepwalker, why don't you keep your eyesopen and mind where you are going?

THE ANCIENT [_mild, bland, and indulgent_] I did not know there was anursery here, or I should not have turned my face in this direction.Such accidents cannot always be avoided. Go on with your play: I willturn back.

THE YOUTH. Why not stay with us and enjoy life for once in a way? Wewill teach you to dance.

THE ANCIENT. No, thank you. I danced when I was a child like you.Dancing is a very crude attempt to get into the rhythm of life. It wouldbe painful to me to go back from that rhythm to your babyish gambols: infact I could not do it if I tried. But at your age it is pleasant: and Iam sorry I disturbed you.

THE YOUTH. Come! own up: arnt you very unhappy? It's dreadful to seeyou ancients going about by yourselves, never noticing anything, neverdancing, never laughing, never singing, never getting anything out oflife. None of us are going to be like that when we grow up. It's a dog'slife.

THE ANCIENT. Not at all. You repeat that old phrase without knowingthat there was once a creature on earth called a dog. Those who areinterested in extinct forms of life will tell you that it loved thesound of its own voice and bounded about when it was happy, just as youare doing here. It is you, my children, who are living the dog's life.

THE YOUTH. The dog must have been a good sensible creature: it set youa very wise example. You should let yourself go occasionally and have agood time.

THE ANCIENT. My children: be content to let us ancients go our ways andenjoy ourselves in our own fashion.

_He turns to go._

THE MAIDEN. But wait a moment. Why will you not tell us how you enjoyyourself? You must have secret pleasures that you hide from us, and thatyou never get tired of. I get tired of all our dances and all our tunes.I get tired of all my partners.

THE YOUTH [_suspiciously_] Do you? I shall bear that in mind.

_They all look at one another as if there were some sinistersignificance in what she has said._

THE MAIDEN. We all do: what is the use of pretending we don't? It isnatural.

SEVERAL YOUNG PEOPLE. No, no. We don't. It is not natural.

THE ANCIENT. You are older than he is, I see. You are growing up.

THE MAIDEN. How do you know? I do not look so much older, do I?

THE ANCIENT. Oh, I was not looking at you. Your looks do not interestme.

THE MAIDEN. Thank you.

_They all laugh._

THE YOUTH. You old fish! I believe you don't know the difference betweena man and a woman.

THE ANCIENT. It has long ceased to interest me in the way it interestsyou. And when anything no longer interests us we no longer know it.

THE MAIDEN. You havnt told me how I shew my age. That is what I want toknow. As a matter of fact I am older than this boy here: older than hethinks. How did you find that out?

THE ANCIENT. Easily enough. You are ceasing to pretend that thesechildish games--this dancing and singing and mating--do not becometiresome and unsatisfying after a while. And you no longer care topretend that you are younger than you are. These are the signs ofadolescence. And then, see these fantastic rags with which you havedraped yourself. [_He takes up a piece of her draperies in his hand_].It is rather badly worn here. Why do you not get a new one?

THE MAIDEN. Oh, I did not notice it. Besides, it is too much trouble.Clothes are a nuisance. I think I shall do without them some day, as youancients do.

THE ANCIENT. Signs of maturity. Soon you will give up all these toys andgames and sweets.

THE YOUTH. What! And be as miserable as you?

THE ANCIENT. Infant: one moment of the ecstasy of life as we live itwould strike you dead. [_He stalks gravely out through the grove_].

_They stare after him, much damped._

THE YOUTH [_to the musicians_] Let us have another dance.

_The musicians shake their heads; get up from their seats on the steps;and troop away into the temple. The others follow them, except theMaiden, who sits down on the altar._

A MAIDEN [_as she goes_] There! The ancient has put them out ofcountenance. It is your fault, Strephon, for provoking him. [_Sheleaves, much disappointed_].

A YOUTH. Why need you have cheeked him like that? [_He goes grumbling_].

STREPHON [_calling after him_] I thought it was understood that we arealways to cheek the ancients on principle.

ANOTHER YOUTH. Quite right too! There would be no holding them if wedidn't. [_He goes_].

ANOTHER YOUTH [_turning on the steps as he goes out_] And don't youforget, infant, that one moment of the ecstasy of life as I live itwould strike you dead. Haha!

STREPHON [_now the only one left, except the Maiden_] Arnt you coming,Chloe?

THE MAIDEN [_shakes her head_]!

THE YOUTH [_hurrying back to her_] What is the matter?

THE MAIDEN [_tragically pensive_] I dont know.

THE YOUTH. Then there is something the matter. Is that what you mean?

THE MAIDEN. Yes. Something is happening to me. I dont know what.

THE YOUTH. You no longer love me. I have seen it for a month past.

THE MAIDEN. Dont you think all that is rather silly? We cannot go on asif this kind of thing, this dancing and sweethearting, were everything.

THE YOUTH. What is there better? What else is there worth living for?

THE MAIDEN. Oh, stuff! Dont be frivolous.

THE YOUTH. Something horrible is happening to you. You are losing allheart, all feeling. [_He sits on the altar beside her and buries hisface in his hands_]. I am bitterly unhappy.

THE MAIDEN. Unhappy! Really, you must have a very empty head if there isnothing in it but a dance with one girl who is no better than any of theother girls.

THE YOUTH. You did not always think so. You used to be vexed if I asmuch as looked at another girl.

THE MAIDEN. What does it matter what I did when I was a baby? Nothingexisted for me then except what I tasted and touched and saw; and Iwanted all that for myself, just as I wanted the moon to play with. Nowthe world is opening out for me. More than the world: the universe. Evenlittle things are turning out to be great things, and becoming intenselyinteresting. Have you ever thought about the properties of numbers?

THE MAIDEN. They are fascinating, just fascinating. I want to get awayfrom our eternal dancing and music, and just sit down by myself andthink about numbers.

THE YOUTH [_rising indignantly_] Oh, this is too much. I have suspectedyou for some time past. We have all suspected you. All the girlssay that you have deceived us as to your age: that you are gettingflat-chested: that you are bored with us; that you talk to the ancientswhen you get the chance. Tell me the truth: how old are you?

THE MAIDEN. Just twice your age, my poor boy.

THE YOUTH. Twice my age! Do you mean to say you are four?

THE MAIDEN. Very nearly four.

THE YOUTH [_collapsing on the altar with a groan_] Oh!

THE MAIDEN. My poor Strephon: I pretended I was only two for your sake.I was two when you were born. I saw you break from your shell; andyou were such a charming child! You ran round and talked to us all soprettily, and were so handsome and well grown, that I lost my heart toyou at once. But now I seem to have lost it altogether: bigger thingsare taking possession of me. Still, we were very happy in our childishway for the first year, werent we?

STREPHON. I was happy until you began cooling towards me.

THE MAIDEN. Not towards you, but towards all the trivialities of ourlife here. Just think. I have hundreds of years to live: perhapsthousands. Do you suppose I can spend centuries dancing; listening toflutes ringing changes on a few tunes and a few notes; raving about thebeauty of a few pillars and arches; making jingles with words; lyingabout with your arms round me, which is really neither comfortable norconvenient; everlastingly choosing colors for dresses, and putting themon, and washing; making a business of sitting together at fixed hoursto absorb our nourishment; taking little poisons with it to make usdelirious enough to imagine we are enjoying ourselves; and then havingto pass the nights in shelters lying in cots and losing half our livesin a state of unconsciousness. Sleep is a shameful thing: I have notslept at all for weeks past. I have stolen out at night when you wereall lying insensible--quite disgusting, I call it--and wandered aboutthe woods, thinking, thinking, thinking; grasping the world; taking itto pieces; building it up again; devising methods; planning experimentsto test the methods; and having a glorious time. Every morning I havecome back here with greater and greater reluctance; and I know that thetime will soon come--perhaps it has come already--when I shall not comeback at all.

STREPHON. How horribly cold and uncomfortable!

THE MAIDEN. Oh, don't talk to me of comfort! Life is not worth living ifyou have to bother about comfort. Comfort makes winter a torture,spring an illness, summer an oppression, and autumn only a respite. Theancients could make life one long frowsty comfort if they chose. Butthey never lift a finger to make themselves comfortable. They will notsleep under a roof. They will not clothe themselves: a girdle with a fewpockets hanging to it to carry things about in is all they wear: theywill sit down on the wet moss or in a gorse bush when there is dryheather within two yards of them. Two years ago, when you were born, Idid not understand this. Now I feel that I would not put myself to thetrouble of walking two paces for all the comfort in the world.

STREPHON. But you don't know what this means to me. It means that youare dying to me: yes, just dying. Listen to me [_he puts his arm aroundher_].

THE MAIDEN [_extricating herself_] Dont. We can talk quite as wellwithout touching one another.

STREPHON [_horrified_] Chloe! Oh, this is the worst symptom of all! Theancients never touch one another.

THE MAIDEN. Why should they?

STREPHON. Oh, I don't know. But don't you want to touch me? You used to.

THE MAIDEN. Yes: that is true: I used to. We used to think it would benice to sleep in one another's arms; but we never could go to sleepbecause our weight stopped our circulations just above the elbows. Thensomehow my feeling began to change bit by bit. I kept a sort of interestin your head and arms long after I lost interest in your whole body. Andnow that has gone.

STREPHON. You no longer care for me at all, then?

THE MAIDEN. Nonsense! I care for you much more seriously than before;though perhaps not so much for you in particular. I mean I care more foreverybody. But I don't want to touch you unnecessarily; and I certainlydon't want you to touch me.

STREPHON [_rising decisively_] That finishes it. You dislike me.

THE MAIDEN [_impatiently_] I tell you again, I do not dislike you; butyou bore me when you cannot understand; and I think I shall be happierby myself in future. You had better get a new companion. What about thegirl who is to be born today?

STREPHON. I do not want the girl who is to be born today. How do I knowwhat she will be like? I want you.

THE MAIDEN. You cannot have me. You must recognize facts and face them.It is no use running after a woman twice your age. I cannot make mychildhood last to please you. The age of love is sweet; but it is short;and I must pay nature's debt. You no longer attract me; and I no longercare to attract you. Growth is too rapid at my age: I am maturing fromweek to week.

STREPHON. You are maturing, as you call it--I call it ageing--fromminute to minute. You are going much further than you did when we beganthis conversation.

THE MAIDEN. It is not the ageing that is so rapid. It is the realizationof it when it has actually happened. Now that I have made up my mind tothe fact that I have left childhood behind me, it comes home to me inleaps and bounds with every word you say.

STREPHON. But your vow. Have you forgotten that? We all swore togetherin that temple: the temple of love. You were more earnest than any ofus.

THE MAIDEN [_with a grim smile_] Never to let our hearts grow cold!Never to become as the ancients! Never to let the sacred lamp beextinguished! Never to change or forget! To be remembered for ever asthe first company of true lovers faithful to this vow so often made andbroken by past generations! Ha! ha! Oh, dear!

STREPHON. Well, you need not laugh. It is a beautiful and holy compact;and I will keep it whilst I live. Are you going to break it?

THE MAIDEN. Dear child: it has broken itself. The change has come inspite of my childish vow. [_She rises_]. Do you mind if I go into thewoods for a walk by myself? This chat of ours seems to me an unbearablewaste of time. I have so much to think of.

STREPHON [_again collapsing on the altar and covering his eyes with hishands_] My heart is broken. [_He weeps_].

THE MAIDEN [_with a shrug_] I have luckily got through my childhoodwithout that experience. It shews how wise I was to choose a lover halfmy age. [_She goes towards the grove, and is disappearing among thetrees, when another youth, older and manlier than Strephon, with crisphair and firm arms, comes from the temple, and calls to her from thethreshold_].

THE TEMPLE YOUTH. I say, Chloe. Is there any sign of the Ancient yet?The hour of birth is overdue. The baby is kicking like mad. She willbreak her shell prematurely.

THE MAIDEN [_looks across to the hill path; then points up it, andsays_] She is coming, Acis.

_The Maiden turns away through the grove and is lost to sight among thetrees._

Acis [_coming to Strephon_] Whats the matter? Has Chloe been unkind?

STREPHON. She has grown up in spite of all her promises. She deceived usabout her age. She is four.

ACIS. Four! I am sorry, Strephon. I am getting on for three myself;and I know what old age is. I hate to say 'I told you so'; but she wasgetting a little hard set and flat-chested and thin on the top, wasn'tshe?

STREPHON [_breaking down_] Dont.

ACIS. You must pull yourself together. This is going to be a busy day.First the birth. Then the Festival of the Artists.

STREPHON [_rising_] What is the use of being born if we have to decayinto unnatural, heartless, loveless, joyless monsters in four shortyears? What use are the artists if they cannot bring their beautifulcreations to life? I have a great mind to die and have done with itall. [_He moves away to the corner of the curved seat farthest from thetheatre, and throws himself moodily into it_].

_An Ancient Woman has descended the hill path during Strephon's lament,and has heard most of it. She is like the He-Ancient, equally bald,and equally without sexual charm, but intensely interesting and ratherterrifying. Her sex is discoverable only by her voice, as her breastsare manly, and her figure otherwise not very different. She wears noclothes, but has draped herself rather perfunctorily with a ceremonialrobe, and carries two implements like long slender saws. She comes tothe altar between the two young men._

THE SHE-ANCIENT [_to Strephon_] Infant: you are only at the beginning ofit all. [_To Acis_] Is the child ready to be born?

ACIS. More than ready, Ancient. Shouting and kicking and cursing. Wehave called to her to be quiet and wait until you come; but of courseshe only half understands, and is very impatient.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. Very well. Bring her out into the sun.

ACIS [_going quickly into the temple_] All ready. Come along.

_Joyous processional music strikes up in the temple._

THE SHE-ANCIENT [_going close to Strephon_]. Look at me.

STREPHON [_sulkily keeping his face _averted] Thank you; but I don'twant to be cured. I had rather be miserable in my own way than callousin yours.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. You like being miserable? You will soon grow out ofthat. [_She returns to the altar_].

_The procession, headed by Acis, emerges from the temple. Six youthscarry on their shoulders a burden covered with a gorgeous but lightpall. Before them certain official maidens carry a new tunic, ewers ofwater, silver dishes pierced with holes, cloths, and immense sponges.The rest carry wands with ribbons, and strew flowers. The burden isdeposited on the altar, and the pall removed. It is a huge egg._

THE SHE-ANCIENT [_freeing her arms from her robe, and placing her sawson the altar ready to her hand in a businesslike manner_] A girl, Ithink you said?

ACIS. Yes.

THE TUNIC BEARER. It is a shame. Why cant we have more boys?

SEVERAL YOUTHS [_protesting_] Not at all. More girls. We want new girls.

A GIRL'S VOICE FROM THE EGG. Let me out. Let me out. I want to be born.I want to be born. [_The egg rocks_].

ACIS [_snatching a wand from one of the others and whacking the egg withit_] Be quiet, I tell you. Wait. You will be born presently.

THE EGG. No, no: at once, at once. I want to be born: I want to be born.[_Violent kicking within the egg, which rocks so hard that it has to beheld on the altar by the bearers_].

THE SHE-ANCIENT. Silence. [_The music stops; and the egg behavesitself_].

_The She-Ancient takes her two saws, and with a couple of strokes ripsthe egg open. The Newly Born, a pretty girl who would have been guessedas seventeen in our day, sits up in the broken shell, exquisitely freshand rosy, but with filaments of spare albumen clinging to her here andthere._

THE NEWLY BORN [_as the world bursts on her vision_] Oh! Oh!!Oh!!! Oh!!!! [_She continues this ad libitum during the followingremonstrances_].

ACIS. Hold your noise, will you?

_The washing begins. The Newly Born shrieks and struggles._

A YOUTH. Lie quiet, you clammy little devil.

A MAIDEN. You must be washed, dear. Now quiet, quiet, quiet: be good.

ACIS. Shut your mouth, or I'll shove the sponge in it.

THE MAIDEN. Shut your eyes. Itll hurt if you don't.

ANOTHER MAIDEN. Dont be silly. One would think nobody had ever been bornbefore.

THE NEWLY BORN [_yells_]!!!!!!

ACIS. Serve you right! You were told to shut your eyes.

THE YOUTH. Dry her off quick. I can hardly hold her. Shut it, will you;or I'll smack you into a pickled cabbage.

ANOTHER YOUTH. No: the other arm: youre putting it on back to front. Youare a silly little beast.

ACIS. Here! Thats it. Now youre clean and decent. Up with you! Oopsh![_He hauls her to her feet. She cannot walk at first, but masters itafter a few steps_]. Now then: march. Here she is, Ancient: put herthrough the catechism.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. What name have you chosen for her?

ACIS. Amaryllis.

THE SHE-ANCIENT [_to the Newly Born_] Your name is Amaryllis.

THE NEWLY BORN. What does it mean?

A YOUTH. Love.

A MAIDEN. Mother.

ANOTHER YOUTH. Lilies.

THE NEWLY BORN [_to Acis_] What is your name?

ACIS. Acis.

THE NEWLY BORN. I love you, Acis. I must have you all to myself. Take mein your arms.

ACIS. Steady, young one. I am three years old.

THE NEWLY BORN. What has that to do with it? I love you; and I must haveyou or I will go back into my shell again.

ACIS. You cant. It's broken. Look here [_pointing to Strephon, who hasremained in his seal without looking round at the birth, wrapped up inhis sorrow_]! Look at this poor fellow!

THE NEWLY BORN. What is the matter with him?

ACIS. When he was born he chose a girl two years old for his sweetheart.He is two years old now himself; and already his heart is broken becauseshe is four. That means that she has grown up like this Ancient here,and has left him. If you choose me, we shall have only a year'shappiness before I break your heart by growing up. Better choose theyoungest you can find.

THE NEWLY BORN. I will not choose anyone but you. You must not grow up.We will love one another for ever. [_They all laugh_]. What are youlaughing at?

THE SHE-ANCIENT. Listen, child--

THE NEWLY BORN. Do not come near me, you dreadful old creature. Youfrighten me.

ACIS. Just give her another moment. She is not quite reasonable yet.What can you expect from a child less than five minutes old?

THE NEWLY BORN. I think I feel a little more reasonable now. Of course Iwas rather young when I said that; but the inside of my head is changingvery rapidly. I should like to have things explained to me.

ACIS [_to the She-Ancient_] Is she all right, do you think?

_The She-Ancient looks at the Newly Born critically; feels her bumpslike a phrenologist; grips her muscles and shakes her limbs; examinesher teeth; looks into her eyes for a moment; and finally relinquishesher with an air of having finished her job._

THE SHE-ANCIENT. She will do. She may live.

_They all wave their hands and shout for joy._

THE NEWLY BORN [_indignant_] I may live! Suppose there had been anythingwrong with me?

THE SHE-ANCIENT. Children with anything wrong do not live here, mychild. Life is not cheap with us. But you would not have felt anything.

THE NEWLY BORN. You mean that you would have murdered me!

THE SHE-ANCIENT. That is one of the funny words the newly born bringwith them out of the past. You will forget it tomorrow. Now listen. Youhave four years of childhood before you. You will not be very happy; butyou will be interested and amused by the novelty of the world; and yourcompanions here will teach you how to keep up an imitation of happinessduring your four years by what they call arts and sports and pleasures.The worst of your troubles is already over.

THE NEWLY BORN. What! In five minutes?

THE SHE-ANCIENT. No: you have been growing for two years in the egg. Youbegan by being several sorts of creatures that no longer exist, thoughwe have fossils of them. Then you became human; and you passed infifteen months through a development that once cost human beings twentyyears of awkward stumbling immaturity after they were born. They had tospend fifty years more in the sort of childhood you will complete infour years. And then they died of decay. But you need not die until youraccident comes.

THE NEWLY BORN. What is my accident?

THE SHE-ANCIENT. Sooner or later you will fall and break your neck; or atree will fall on you; or you will be struck by lightning. Something orother must make an end of you some day.

THE NEWLY BORN. But why should any of these things happen to me?

THE SHE-ANCIENT. There is no why. They do. Everything happens toeverybody sooner or later if there is time enough. And with us there iseternity.

THE NEWLY BORN. Nothing need happen. I never heard such nonsense in allmy life. I shall know how to take care of myself.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. So you think.

THE NEWLY BORN. I don't think: I know. I shall enjoy life for ever andever.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. If you should turn out to be a person of infinitecapacity, you will no doubt find life infinitely interesting. However,all you have to do now is to play with your companions. They have manypretty toys, as you see: a playhouse, pictures, images, flowers, brightfabrics, music: above all, themselves; for the most amusing child's toyis another child. At the end of four years, your mind will change: youwill become wise; and then you will be entrusted with power.

THE NEWLY BORN. But I want power now.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. No doubt you do; so that you could play with the worldby tearing it to pieces.

THE NEWLY BORN. Only to see how it is made. I should put it all togetheragain much better than before.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. There was a time when children were given the world toplay with because they promised to improve it. They did not improve it;and they would have wrecked it had their power been as great as thatwhich you will wield when you are no longer a child. Until then youryoung companions will instruct you in whatever is necessary. You are notforbidden to speak to the ancients; but you had better not do so, asmost of them have long ago exhausted all the interest there is inobserving children and conversing with them. [_She turns to go_].

THE NEWLY BORN. Wait. Tell me some things that I ought to do and oughtnot to do. I feel the need of education. They all laugh at her, exceptthe She-Ancient.

THE SHE-ANCIENT. You will have grown out of that by tomorrow. Do whatyou please. [_She goes away up the hill path_].

_The officials take their paraphernalia and the fragments of the eggback into the temple._

ACIS. Just fancy: that old girl has been going for seven hundred yearsand hasnt had her fatal accident yet; and she is not a bit tired of itall.

THE NEWLY BORN. How could anyone ever get tired of life?

ACIS. They do. That is, of the same life. They manage to changethemselves in a wonderful way. You meet them sometimes with a lot ofextra heads and arms and legs: they make you split laughing at them.Most of them have forgotten how to speak: the ones that attend to ushave to brush up their knowledge of the language once a year or so.Nothing makes any difference to them that I can see. They never enjoythemselves. I don't know how they can stand it. They don't even come toour festivals of the arts. That old one who saw you out of your shellhas gone off to moodle about doing nothing; though she knows that thisis Festival Day?

THE NEWLY BORN. What is Festival Day?

ACIS. Two of our greatest sculptors are bringing us their latestmasterpieces; and we are going to crown them with flowers and singdithyrambs to them and dance round them.

THE NEWLY BORN. How jolly! What is a sculptor?

ACIS. Listen here, young one. You must find out things for yourself, andnot ask questions. For the first day or two you must keep your eyes andears open and your mouth shut. Children should be seen and not heard.

THE NEWLY BORN. Who are you calling a child? I am fully a quarter ofan hour old [_She sits down on the curved bench near Strephon with hermaturest air_].

ACIS. Hullo: whats the matter? [_He goes to the steps of the temple_].

_The two sculptors issue from the temple. One has a beard two feet long:the other is beardless. Between them comes a handsome nymph with markedfeatures, dark hair richly waved, and authoritative bearing._

THE AUTHORITATIVE NYMPH [_swooping down to the centre of the glade withthe sculptors, between Acis and the Newly Born_] Do not try to browbeatme, Arjillax, merely because you are clever with your hands. Can youplay the flute?

ARJILLAX [_the bearded sculptor on her right_] No, Ecrasia: I cannot.What has that to do with it? [_He is half derisive, half impatient,wholly resolved not to take her seriously in spite of her beauty andimposing tone_].

ECRASIA. Well, have you ever hesitated to criticize our best fluteplayers, and to declare whether their music is good or bad? Pray have Inot the same right to criticize your busts, though I cannot make imagesanymore than you can play?

ARJILLAX. Any fool can play the flute, or play anything else, if hepractises enough; but sculpture is a creative art, not a mere businessof whistling into a pipe. The sculptor must have something of the godin him. From his hand comes a form which reflects a spirit. He does notmake it to please you, nor even to please himself, but because he must.You must take what he gives you, or leave it if you are not worthy ofit.

ECRASIA [_scornfully_] Not worthy of it! Ho! May I not leave it becauseit is not worthy of me?

ECRASIA. I know what every person of culture knows: that the business ofthe artist is to create beauty. Until today your works have been full ofbeauty; and I have been the first to point that out.

ARJILLAX. Thank you for nothing. People have eyes, havnt they, to seewhat is as plain as the sun in the heavens without your pointing it out?

ECRASIA. You were very glad to have it pointed out. You did not call mea conceited humbug then. You stifled me with caresses. You modelled meas the genius of art presiding over the infancy of your master here[_indicating the other sculptor_], Martellus.

ECRASIA. I discovered your genius before anyone else did. Is that true,or is it not?

ARJILLAX. Everybody knew I was an extraordinary person. When I was bornmy beard was three feet long.

ECRASIA. Yes; and it has shrunk from three feet to two. Your geniusseems to have been in the last foot of your beard; for you have lostboth.

MARTELLUS [_with a short sardonic cachinnation_] Ha! My beard was threeand a half feet long when I was born; and a flash of lightning burnt itoff and killed the ancient who was delivering me. Without a hair on mychin I became the greatest sculptor in ten generations.

ECRASIA. And yet you come to us today with empty hands. We shallactually have to crown Arjillax here because no other sculptor isexhibiting.

ACIS [_returning from the temple steps to behind the curved seat on theright of the three_] Whats the row, Ecrasia? Why have you fallen outwith Arjillax?

ECRASIA. He has insulted us! outraged us! profaned his art! You knowhow much we hoped from the twelve busts he placed in the temple to beunveiled today. Well, go in and look at them. That is all I have tosay. [_She sweeps to the curved seat, and sits down just where Acis isleaning over it_].

ACIS. I am no great judge of sculpture. Art is not my line. What iswrong with the busts?

_The Newly Born, full of curiosity, runs to the temple, and peeps in._

ACIS. Oh, stow it, Ecrasia. Your lips are not so squeamish as all that.Studies of what?

THE NEWLY BORN [_from the temple steps_] Ancients.

ACIS [_surprised but not scandalized_] Ancients!

ECRASIA. Yes, ancients. The one subject that is by the universal consentof all connoisseurs absolutely excluded from the fine arts. [_ToArjillax_] How can you defend such a proceeding?

ARJILLAX. If you come to that, what interest can you find in the statuesof smirking nymphs and posturing youths you stick up all over the place?

ECRASIA. You did not ask that when your hand was still skilful enough tomodel them.

ARJILLAX. Skilful! You high-nosed idiot, I could turn such things out bythe score with my eyes bandaged and one hand tied behind me. But whatuse would they be? They would bore me; and they would bore you if youhad any sense. Go in and look at my busts. Look at them again and yetagain until you receive the full impression of the intensity ofmind that is stamped on them; and then go back to the pretty-prettyconfectionery you call sculpture, and see whether you can endure itsvapid emptiness. [_He mounts the altar impetuously_] Listen to me, allof you; and do you, Ecrasia, be silent if you are capable of silence.

ECRASIA. Silence is the most perfect expression of scorn. Scorn! That iswhat I feel for your revolting busts.

ARJILLAX. Fool: the busts are only the beginning of a mighty design.Listen.

ACIS. Go ahead, old sport. We are listening.

_Martellus stretches himself on the sward beside the altar. The NewlyBorn sits on the temple steps with her chin on her hands, ready todevour the first oration she has ever heard. The rest sit or stand atease._

ARJILLAX. In the records which generations of children have rescued fromthe stupid neglect of the ancients, there has come down to us a fablewhich, like many fables, is not a thing that was done in the past, but athing that is to be done in the future. It is a legend of a supernaturalbeing called the Archangel Michael.

THE NEWLY BORN. Is this a story? I want to hear a story. [_She runs downthe steps and sits on the altar at Arjillax's feet_].

ARJILLAX. The Archangel Michael was a mighty sculptor and painter. Hefound in the centre of the world a temple erected to the goddess of thecentre, called Mediterranea. This temple was full of silly pictures ofpretty children, such as Ecrasia approves.

ACIS. Fair play, Arjillax! If she is to keep silent, let her alone.

ECRASIA. I shall not interrupt, Acis. Why should I not prefer youth andbeauty to age and ugliness?

ARJILLAX. Just so. Well, the Archangel Michael was of my opinion, notyours. He began by painting on the ceiling the newly born in all theirchildish beauty. But when he had done this he was not satisfied; for thetemple was no more impressive than it had been before, except that therewas a strength and promise of greater things about his newly born onesthan any other artist had attained to. So he painted all round thesenewly born a company of ancients, who were in those days called prophetsand sybils, whose majesty was that of the mind alone at its intensest.And this painting was acknowledged through ages and ages to be thesummit and masterpiece of art. Of course we cannot believe such a taleliterally. It is only a legend. We do not believe in archangels; and thenotion that thirty thousand years ago sculpture and painting existed,and had even reached the glorious perfection they have reached with us,is absurd. But what men cannot realize they can at least aspire to. Theyplease themselves by pretending that it was realized in a golden age ofthe past. This splendid legend endured because it lived as a desire inthe hearts of the greatest artists. The temple of Mediterranea never wasbuilt in the past, nor did Michael the Archangel exist. But today thetemple is here [_he points to the porch_]; and the man is here [_heslaps himself on the chest_]. I, Arjillax, am the man. I will placein your theatre such images of the newly born as must satisfy evenEcrasia's appetite for beauty; and I will surround them with ancientsmore august than any who walk through our woods.

MARTELLUS [_as before_] Ha!

ARJILLAX [_stung_] Why do you laugh, you who have come empty-handed,and, it seems, empty-headed?

ACIS. Be quiet, will you [_he seizes her shoulders and thrusts her backinto her seat_].

MARTELLUS. Let him disparage his fill, Ecrasia. [_Sitting up_] My poorArjillax, I too had this dream. I too found one day that my images ofloveliness had become vapid, uninteresting, tedious, a waste of timeand material. I too lost my desire to model limbs, and retained only myinterest in heads and faces. I, too, made busts of ancients; but I hadnot your courage: I made them in secret, and hid them from you all.

ARJILLAX [_jumping down from the altar behind Martellus in his surpriseand excitement_] You made busts of ancients! Where are they, man? Willyou be talked out of your inspiration by Ecrasia and the fools whoimagine she speaks with authority? Let us have them all set up besidemine in the theatre. I have opened the way for you; and you see I amnone the worse.

MARTELLUS. Impossible. They are all smashed. [_He rises, laughing_].

ALL. Smashed!

ARJILLAX. Who smashed them?

MARTELLUS. I did. That is why I laughed at you just now. You will smashyours before you have completed a dozen of them. [_He goes to the end ofthe altar and sits down beside the Newly Born_].

ARJILLAX. But why?

MARTELLUS. Because you cannot give them life. A live ancient is betterthan a dead statue. [_He takes the Newly Born on his knee: she isflattered and voluptuously responsive_]. Anything alive is better thananything that is only pretending to be alive. [_To Arjillax_] Yourdisillusion with your works of beauty is only the beginning of yourdisillusion with images of all sorts. As your hand became more skilfuland your chisel cut deeper, you strove to get nearer and nearer to truthand reality, discarding the fleeting fleshly lure, and making images ofthe mind that fascinates to the end. But how can so noble an inspirationbe satisfied with any image, even an image of the truth? In the end theintellectual conscience that tore you away from the fleeting in art tothe eternal must tear you away from art altogether, because art is falseand life alone is true.

THE NEWLY BORN [_flings her arms round his neck and kisses himenthusiastically_].

MARTELLUS [_rises; carries her to the curved bench on his left; depositsher beside Strephon as if she were his overcoat; and continues withoutthe least change of tone_] Shape it as you will, marble remains marble,and the graven image an idol. As I have broken my idols, and cast awaymy chisel and modelling tools, so will you too break these busts ofyours.

ARJILLAX. Never.

MARTELLUS. Wait, my friend. I do not come empty-handed today, as youimagined. On the contrary, I bring with me such a work of art as youhave never seen, and an artist who has surpassed both you and me furtherthan we have surpassed all our competitors.

ECRASIA. Impossible. The greatest things in art can never be surpassed.

ARJILLAX. Who is this paragon whom you declare greater than I?

MARTELLUS. I declare him greater than myself, Arjillax.

ARJILLAX [_frowning_] I understand. Sooner than not drown me, you arewilling to clasp me round the waist and jump overboard with me.

ACIS. Oh, stop squabbling. That is the worst of you artists. You arealways in little squabbling cliques; and the worst cliques are thosewhich consist of one man. Who is this new fellow you are throwing in oneanother's teeth?

ARJILLAX. Ask Martellus: do not ask me. I know nothing of him. [_Heleaves Martellus, and sits down beside Ecrasia, on her left_].

ARJILLAX. Pygmalion produce a work of art! You have lost your artisticsenses. The man is utterly incapable of modelling a thumb nail, letalone a human figure.

MARTELLUS. That does not matter: I have done the modelling for him.

ARJILLAX. What on earth do you mean?

MARTELLUS [_calling_] Pygmalion: come forth.

_Pygmalion, a square-fingered youth with his face laid out in horizontalblocks, and a perpetual smile of eager benevolent interest ineverything, and expectation of equal interest from everybody else, comesfrom the temple to the centre of the group, who regard him for the mostpart with dismay, as dreading that he will bore them. Ecrasia is openlycontemptuous._

MARTELLUS. Friends: it is unfortunate that Pygmalion is constitutionallyincapable of exhibiting anything without first giving a lecture aboutit to explain it; but I promise you that if you will be patient he willshew you the two most wonderful works of art in the world, and that theywill contain some of my own very best workmanship. Let me add that theywill inspire a loathing that will cure you of the lunacy of art forever. [_He sits down next the Newly Born, who pouts and turns a verycold right shoulder to him, a demonstration utterly lost on him_].

_Pygmalion, with the smile of a simpleton, and the eager confidence of afanatical scientist, climbs awkwardly on to the altar. They prepare forthe worst._

PYGMALION. My friends: I will omit the algebra--

ACIS. Thank God!

PYGMALION [_continuing_]--because Martellus has made me promise to doso. To come to the point, I have succeeded in making artificial humanbeings. Real live ones, I mean.

PYGMALION. I tell you I have. I will shew them to you. It has been donebefore. One of the very oldest documents we possess mentions a traditionof a biologist who extracted certain unspecified minerals from the earthand, as it quaintly expresses it, 'breathed into their nostrils thebreath of life.' This is the only tradition from the primitive ageswhich we can regard as really scientific. There are later documentswhich specify the minerals with great precision, even to their atomicweights; but they are utterly unscientific, because they overlook theelement of life which makes all the difference between a mere mixture ofsalts and gases and a living organism. These mixtures were made overand over again in the crude laboratories of the Silly-Clever Ages; butnothing came of them until the ingredient which the old chroniclercalled the breath of life was added by this very remarkable earlyexperimenter. In my view he was the founder of biological science.

ARJILLAX. Is that all we know about him? It doesnt amount to very much,does it?

PYGMALION. There are some fragments of pictures and documents whichrepresent him as walking in a garden and advising people to cultivatetheir gardens. His name has come down to us in several forms. One ofthem is Jove. Another is Voltaire.

ECRASIA. You are boring us to distraction with your Voltaire. What aboutyour human beings?

ARJILLAX. Aye: come to them.

PYGMALION. I assure you that these details are intensely interesting.[_Cries of_ No! They are not! Come to the human beings! ConspuezVoltaire! Cut it short, Pyg! _interrupt him from all sides_]. You willsee their bearing presently. I promise you I will not detain you long.We know, we children of science, that the universe is full of forces andpowers and energies of one kind and another. The sap rising in a tree,the stone holding together in a definite crystalline structure, thethought of a philosopher holding his brain in form and operation with aninconceivably powerful grip, the urge of evolution: all these forces canbe used by us. For instance, I use the force of gravitation when I put astone on my tunic to prevent it being blown away when I am bathing. Bysubstituting appropriate machines for the stone we have made not onlygravitation our slave, but also electricity and magnetism, atomicattraction, repulsion, polarization, and so forth. But hitherto thevital force has eluded us; so it has had to create machinery for itself.It has created and developed bony structures of the requisite strength,and clothed them with cellular tissue of such amazing sensitiveness thatthe organs it forms will adapt their action to all the normal variationsin the air they breathe, the food they digest, and the circumstancesabout which they have to think. Yet, as these live bodies, as we callthem, are only machines after all, it must be possible to construct themmechanically.

ARJILLAX. Everything is possible. Have you done it? that is thequestion.

PYGMALION. Yes. But that is a mere fact. What is interesting is theexplanation of the fact. Forgive my saying so; but it is such a pitythat you artists have no intellect.